


Retribution

by Sunevial



Category: Discord Murder Party (Podcast)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-04 20:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18819940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunevial/pseuds/Sunevial
Summary: Entry number ṣ̴̛̭͎́̽̉̒̾̀͠i̴̬͆̾͂̈́̀͑͠͠$̵̧̧̧͙̘̜̣̦͖̙͔̖͈̝̇̇͆͋̀̽̀̿̒̐͘͝͝%̵̢͇̥͇̰̼̫̲͓̜̪̜̏̌̈̿̾̎̔̅͠͝^̷͕̲̭̝̱̭̘̟͕͉̈́͊̆̀͌́͘$̷̨̹͕͂̑̏̈́̃̾̈́̀̏̌̕͘͝͝ ̶̤͚̒̑̈́̀͊h̷͖͇̦̰̫̞̣̎̃̈͜ũ̷͈̞̲̩͚̭̼̹̹̜͎͎̲͕͍̀͝#̸̥̘̹̪͍̼̮̓̇̒̾̾̉̇̈́ͅ@̶͈͖̮̹͇̥̪̮̎̃͒͜ͅ$̴̡͔̏̐̅%̴̟̩̪͇̊̃͌̂͊̕̕ͅ&̶̟̲̰̰̆̄$̷̢͓̗͖̹͖̹̹̜̼̲̬̏̃͑̾̚ͅ.Approximate location and year: England, Late Middle Ages.Subject: Calls to Arms, History Written Through The Eyes of Mortals.This narrative follows Terence Raleigh, a man present during the Generals enacting their retribution upon Lord Benton's fiefdom. Some artistic liberties have been taken by the author.





	Retribution

The evening sun was red. There would be a storm tonight.

Sighing, Terence continued stirring the large pot of stew, occasionally dumping in a chopped carrot or parsnip to pass the time. Before long, there would be people coming in from the farm fields, craving a seat at his tavern and a hot meal to go with it. No, the problem would be that rain meant people would be staying longer into the night, and his stores were already stretched thin from last year’s poor harvest. Maybe Astra would have a better idea about how to feed a hundred people on a meal made for half that number. He’d have to ask her once she was back from the daily shopping.

Placing a lid over the pot, he added another log to the fire before stepping out into the crisp evening air. The constant din of marketplace deals echoed off the wooden houses even at this hour, if perhaps a bit more hushed than normal. Everyone with common sense had a cross strung around their neck, going about their business as normal but glancing at the oncoming storm with wary trepidation. Most of the people here weren’t a particularly superstitious bunch, but there was little harm in being cautious. 

As he glanced over the slowly emptying marketplace, his eyes landed on something particularly out of place for the town. Every so often, the small sea of people would part, muttering under their breath as they gave an unfamiliar young woman a wide berth. She was tall and stood proud, chestnut hair long and free in the wind. An earthy green robe draped down her willowy form, collar and cuffs lined with gold. Each time she moved, symbols he couldn’t recognize seemed to appear on her robe and vanish as soon as his eyes focused on them.

The woman eventually made her way to Terence’s end of town, her face cold as iron. She seemed to pay little attention to any of the hostility aimed her way, carrying her head high and uncaring through the slowly dispersing crowd. While she didn’t have the air of nobility or the movements of madness, she was obviously someone of some importance. Either way, she certainly deserved a bit more respect than what she was currently receiving.

He cleared his throat, projecting his voice as loud as it would carry. “You look like you’re from far off, miss,” he said, putting on a half smile. “Been on the road for some time?”

Her footfalls slowed one by one as she glanced his way, her eyes a piercing green that sent shivers up his spine for reasons he couldn’t place. “Where I am from is no concern of yours, tavern owner,” she said, her voice low and articulate. 

“Maybe it’s not my business, but I thought I’d ask anyways,” he replied, something of a genuine smile crossing his face. “It looked like you needed a friendly conversation.”

“How presumptuous of you.” Her voice was as flat and uncaring as her expression looked.

“Part of the job, miss,” Terence said with a slight chuckle. “Care for a warm meal? I have some stew on the fire if you’re hungry.”

“That is a kind offer, but…I think I will have to decline,” she said, gently shaking her head. For a split second, the ice cold mask over her face seemed to drop, and a twinge of what he could only describe as concern flashed across her eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong miss?”

Her eyes seemed to narrow ever so slightly, though she stepped closer to the low building. “Tell me, tavern owner…why is everyone in your town so afraid?” 

Terence gave a small shrug, fingering the cross around his own neck. “If you care to believe in blasphemy, apparently the local lord took the deal of a pagan god and then went back on it,” he said with a slight chuckle. “If you prefer common sense, there’s a large storm rolling in and people are worried about the crops. Why do you ask?”

“What is your name?” The tone in her voice made it clear this was a demand.

“Terence Raleigh,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “What’s yours?”

“Nothing of any consequence.” Her words were nearly as hard as her eyes, laced with a power that he had an inkling he should be fearing. “If you value your life, Mr. Raleigh, take everyone you love and run as far and as fast as you can.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a chill running from the base of his neck down the length of his spine. For a brief moment, he had a half a mind to grab his children, find his wife, and bolt from the town without looking back. The thought left as soon as it arrived, replaced with a deep uncertainty. “Forgive me, miss, but I’m not exactly sure what you mean.”

“I am unable to give you anything more specific. Just know if you stay here, I cannot guarantee you anything.” She glanced over her shoulder, eyeing the clouds inching their way across the sky.

Terence looked her direction as well, giving a slight sigh. “No offense miss, but I doubt there’s much I can do to outrun a storm,” he finally replied. “And I’ve got the tavern to run and people to feed. It’s not like I can abandon them.”

The woman sniffed, her eyes and face once again growing cold and distance. She shook her head with a mixture of disappointment and…was that sorrow? “I tried to warn you.” she said, turning away from the tavern. “If you are going to ignore my warnings, then I suppose it is fitting you be the focus of this story.”

Before he could get another word in, she was already far down the road and out of ear shot. He took another look at the sky, feeling that same uneasiness from the woman’s words. Maybe…maybe she did know what she was talking about.

Or maybe she was simply as crazy as they came. 

Brushing the hair from his eyes, he stepped back into the tavern and to the bubbling pot over the fire. Strange woman and strange feelings or no, he had more pressing matters to attend to. Grabbing his knife, he gave it a few quick sharpens before slicing into a handful of onions.

Lightning flashed.

* * *

For hours now, the storm had battering the thin wooden walls of the tavern, drowning out any real attempts at music or merriment. Despite the fact no one could reasonably head home in this kind of weather, neither ale nor food was being bought in large quantities. A melancholy air filled the room, everyone tense and on the edge of their seat. Even his children, little Brianne and Darrell, were huddled in one of the corners of the tavern, silent as lambs and just watching the rain fall.

“Sweetheart, we’re running low on firewood,” Astra said, keeping her voice down. “Do you think there’s anything outside that isn’t soaked at this point?”

“It’d be a miracle if there was,” he returned in the same hushed tone. “But I’ll see what I can find. Last thing we need is for the fires to go out.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, a concerned smile gracing her lips. “Stay safe out there. It’s ungodly late.”

Terence cracked a half smile and planted a small kiss on her hand. “I will.” 

Grabbing an oilskin and a small hooded lantern, he threw the hood over his head and stepped out into the pouring rain. The streets were pitch black, obscured by the rain and the horrendous lack of light. All the little lantern did was cast strange shadows into the darkness, making the buildings appear far too close and far too away. Shivering, he took a couple of tentative steps around the side of the tavern.

As to be expected, the woodpile was waterlogged to the point where even a bonfire couldn’t get it to light. It would be a cold night, and they didn’t have nearly enough blankets to go around. Shaking his head, he took a number of steps around the growing piles of mud and poked his head out of the alley.

His heart stopped dead.

Through the haze of the rain, the market square seemed to give off a faint glow, the light somehow dark and equally harsh on his eyes. The woman in green stood…no, floated in the center, gazing into the storm clouds. No rain fell on her, avoiding her hair and clothes as if she didn’t exist at all. Her gaze slowly fell on the lantern light, eyes devoid of sympathy.

She…no, whatever this was…it wasn’t human.

And he had realized that all too late.

“You wished to know my name,” the woman said, her voice warbling in his ears and tearing at his shull. She reached into her cloak and removed a piece of parchment and a quill as black as night. With long, fluid strokes, she took the quill and almost slashed it across the page. “The Librarian of Alexandria, the One who Records, Master of Paper and Ink.”

Terence tried to run for the door, turn his eyes away from the scene, shout a warning, anything except stand there defenseless. But no matter how much he willed and wanted and wished, he was caught in the web of her words. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could do but watch.

“The Admiral of the Scroll.”

The woman looked up from her work, green eyes writhing with cold fire and crinkling like paper. Symbols danced across her robe, golden glyphs organizing themselves in neat lines. With a painstaking slowness, she revealed a single four pointed star drawn in black ink. 

“I am the Bookkeeper. And I am the least of your concerns.”

With a speed that could never be described as human, she flung the paper into the heavens. Lightning flashed, arcing down from the clouds above and striking the sheet of parchment. 

The sky was red.

_Child of the Abyss. Sower of Chaos. Master of Reality._  
_The General of the Unknown._  
_The Advisor_

Terence’s vision returned to a black star floating against the sky…and a man standing next to Bookkeeper. His wild hair and long coat were as white as snow, both blowing in the opposite direction of the the howling storm winds, yet he looked no older than perhaps twenty years old. He glanced around the clearing with eyes that flickered between blue and deep red. “This is such a quaint little town, all things considered,” he said, a distant smile on his face. “I still don’t understand why anyone would use their own people as collateral for a contract.”

“Likely greed, selfishness, or both,” Bookkeeper said with a sniff, folding her arms over each other. 

The man…or rather the Advisor simply nodded. “Ah yes, those emotions, incredibly self-destructive and ill aligned with group cooperation and general well being of others. I am so glad I disabled those,” he said with about casually as someone would talk about the weather. He stretched out his arms before offering a hand to Bookkeeper. “Shall we? I am assuming you would…how shall I say, rather not get your hands dirty.”

His head then turned at a wholly unnatural angle towards Terence. “As for you, I would start running now.”

With a jolt, his limbs once again came to life, and his mind ran with them. Not waiting to see what would come next, he scrambled over the mud and grime. He burst into the tavern, pushing past people either standing in stunned horror, clutching rosaries, or wailing about the end of the world. Brianne and Darrell almost leaped at him, clinging onto his legs and trembling in palpable terror. Astra was not far behind, grabbing his shoulder with a shaking hand.

“What’s…what’s going on?” she asked, her voice cracking at every other word.

“We have to get out of here, now,” he said while suppressing a shout, pulling Brianne onto his back and dragging both wife and son out the door. The four of them emerged to a marbling sky, an unnatural red glow illuminating the storm clouds still dumping rain above them. Others had spilled into the streets, standing either with mouths agape or clinging at their heads in pain. He pushed past them all, keeping a firm grip on his family as he ran for the edge of town.

Lightning flashed, and the town was red. 

_Daughter of the Gods, Stalker in the Night, Shapechanger._  
_The General of the Wilds._  
_The Huntress._

All he could hear were death shrieks, arrows screaming from unseen places and finding their marks in the townsfolk as a second black star blazed overhead. Then came steel on flesh, breath leaving the victims with far too little sound. Through the crowd, Terence could see a woman with bloodstained blonde hair and the build of an amazon. The whites of her eyes were as black as the weapon in her hand, shifting from a shortsword to an ax to a polearm each time he caught a glimpse of it. She had a wide smile on her face, bloodlust burning in her very body as bodies fell around her and began bleeding out in the streets.

Refusing to stop running, Terence pulled Astra and Derrell into an alleyway and forced Brianne off his back, the four of them flattening themselves against the walls. His heart was up in his ears, pounding out the words Bookkeeper had said earlier in the day. The metallic smell of blood filled his nostrils, and it took everything he had not to empty his stomach into the road.

“Now, let’s see…who here could give me a real challenge?” Huntress mused, glancing around as if she could smell the hiding family. “Maybe some little mice hiding in a corner?” 

Before she could turn her full attention on them, however, her ears began to twitch. An already crazed smile only grew wider, and she let out a cackle. With horrific twisting motions, her body began contorting and folding in on itself until there was no longer a woman but a great mountain lion standing in the middle of the street.

The towns guard turned a corner into slaughter.

Taking the opportunity, Terence dragged his family further down the road as the sounds of tearing flesh and savage roars echoed off the building walls. Mud splashed underfoot as they fled from the market and into the richer portions of town. 

“Daddy…what’s going on?” Brianne cried, burying her face into his shoulder as her body was wracked with tremors.

“Why is everyone dying?” Derrell’s voice was no more than a whisper. 

“I’m…I’m not sure,” Terende said, the lie hoarse in his throat. 

“You don’t…you don’t think…” Astra’s words trailed off as she looked to the stars in the sky, the slowly dawning realization written in her face. “He…he sold us out…”

Terence said nothing, pulling his family further down the road and away from the massacre behind them. Any door that wasn’t shut tight was flung wide open as everyone who could still run bolted for the steps of the church. The priest was standing at the door, ushering people into the worship hall as fast as he could.

Lightning flashed, and the world went red.

_Scholar of Magic, Curse Bearer, the Alchemist Supreme._  
_The General of the Arcane._  
_The Witch._

Terence once again skidded to a halt, pulling his wife and children into an abandoned house and shutting the door tight behind them. Through the window, he could see a third black star illuminating a short woman standing on the church steps. Her dark hair was chopped close to her chin and a friendly smile crossed her face. Two simple bracelets rested on her arms, each sporting a single thorn, while a bag rested on her hip. 

The priest slammed the doors behind him, holding his hands out in front of his body. “These are hallowed grounds,” he said, his voice shaking ever so slightly but his convictions firm. “You can’t enter these walls, demon.”

“You’re assuming quite a bit about me, Father,” Witch said with a bright smile, taking another step up the stairs. “Including the fact that I’m supposed to fear a god like yours.”

Eyes widening, the priest stumbled backwards until he was pressed against the church doors. “Please, spare them, they’re innocent in this manner.” 

“Oh I know they didn’t do a thing.” Witch giggled, taking the thorn of one of her bracelets and slashing it into her wrist. Blood began leaking out of the wound, spiraling up her hand and around her body. Her face flickered, and the friendly demeanor gave way to pointed teeth and bleeding eyes. “They’re not the ones who made the deal. But they were written into the contact.”

She threw her hand out, tendrils shooting from her fingertips and piercing the defenseless man. He collapsed without a sound, the blood from his wounds merging with the swirling mass already surrounding her. 

Astra, the children, and Terence alike had to bite back a scream.

Another wave of her hand and the door splintered, followed by panicked cries and screams of the parishioners within. As the ribbons of blood continued to grow around her, Witch took two glass vials from her bag and lobbed them into the bloodied hall. There was a crash, then a spark, then a familiar glow as flames engulfed the house of worship.

Tearing his eyes away from the scene, Terence ran into the back room of the house and threw open the door. He could feel his mind beginning to slip, all the blood and death piling up in his mind and threatening to shatter what little was left of his sanity. Running was becoming less and less of an option. Now, it was just about trying to hide as best as they could. “This way!” he shouted to the rest.

Derrell sprinted from the common room and out of the abandoned house, Astra holding tight to his hand. He glanced back, looking for his little girl. Brianne had not moved, her body still as a statue and the color draining from her face. Her gaze slowly fell to her ankle. A single tendril of blood held her fast.

Terence’s heart dropped into his stomach.

Trembling, she reached an arm out to him, the other hand holding her stomach. “Daddy…” 

There was a harsh giggle in his ear. “Oh don’t worry. I’ll take real good care of this one.”

The tendril yanked her through the door, carrying along her frantic screams and terror stricken eyes into the night.

Lightning flashed.

His mind went red.

_Life and Death, The Storm Incarnate, That Which Lurks in the Rustling Leaves Unseen._  
_The General of the Tempest._  
_The Priestess._

Scrambling outside, Terence skidded to a halt as the fourth black star flickered into the skies above. A woman stood in the middle of the street, eyes closed and light brown hair pulled back behind her head. She was difficult to fully make out, her body seemingly surrounded by writhing shadows. Long gloves covered her hands and arms, a detail he only noticed because her fingers were enclosing the necks of his wife and son.

“Well, isn’t this adorable? The whole family is here,” Priestess said with a smile on her face. She chuckled, but there was no humor behind the sound, the winds roaring around them with the force of ancient grudges. “Or at least, what’s left of it now. I believe my…associate has laid claim to your daughter. I wouldn’t be too worried, sweetheart. Our dearest Witch loves children.”

“Please…please let them go,” Terence whispered, taking a tentative step closer. “Take me instead…just…please don’t hurt them.”

“Willing to sacrifice yourself for their sake? How noble of you. How utterly noble. But, I don’t want your blood on the streets, not yet,” she said with a smile that slowly turned into a mocking sneer. Her grip on Darrell and Astra’s necks tightened, and both let out a gasping breath as they clawed at her gloved hands. “I don’t think your story is done just yet. So, I’ll let you choose. Your wife. Or your remaining child.” 

The words wouldn’t form on his lips “I…I can’t…”

“You can’t choose between them? Well, that’s quite unfortunate for them, because I can wait here all day,” she said, her fingers slowly closing together. “They, of course, will run out air within a matter of minutes and will expire almost instantly if I so happen to crush their windpipes. So if I were you, I would come up with something rather quickly.”

“Why…why are you doing this?” he asked, falling onto his knees and desperately looking up at Priestess. “We’ve done nothing to you.”

“ _You_ have not, that is correct,” she replied, finally opening up her eyes. Golden eyes shined down on him, stealing his breath away as the wind and rain began to tear at his clothes and skin. “You see, little man, your Lord Benton made a wish. It was a very simple wish, a wish that this year’s harvest would be bountiful in exchange for a number of souls from his providence. And instead of honoring our deal, he broke his promise with Our Lady. Very badly.”

“Who…who is your lady?” Terence stammered.

“She is the void given breath, the empty chasm in your chest, the sky of black stars, and the aching drop of the abyss,” Priestess replied with slow words and a slower smile. “She is a goddess of Death and Murder. And she has been wronged. The price must be paid in blood.”

She held up his dying family. “Now choose.”

Terence looked Astra in the eyes, seeing the life slowly draining from her body. Hands clutching her neck, she strained up just high enough to give a last shaking nod, eyes filled with desperation.

“...my son.”

There was a sickening crunch, and her body crumpled to the ground. Derrell used his first breath to wail over his mother’s broken body.

Lightning flashed.

The ground was red.

_The Knife in the Dark, Hand of Murder, An Angel By Any Other Name._  
_The General of the Eldritch._  
_The Lieutenant_

Unable to tear his eyes away, Terence watched as the fifth star appear in the sky. Against the still skies, a figure descended with wings of black and purple feathers studded with stars. Somehow, even so high up in the sky, he could see that the man…or the shape of a man held nothing more than a simple dagger in his hand. It was black as the void with stars at the crossguard, flat as a sheet of paper.

Lieutenant did not say a word as he looked over the town, blue eyes piercing through anyone and everyone still left alive. There was no voice that could reason with the void, no action that could stop his onslaught, no power that could match him. He floated among the five black stars for only a moment, one that stretched out for what might as well have been an eternity. 

All at once, Terence felt the gaze of a uncountable numbers of eyes piercing through his body and mind. They consumed his every thought, the last of his will and his identity, bending and twisting and breaking him as his mind began to try and compherent something it Could Not. So he stared. And he screamed.

For what can a mortal do against an angel of death.

Lightning stuck.

Everything was red.

And everything was cold.

* * *

With a flourish of her quill, Bookkeeper reached the end of her roll of parchment. Taking a single red thread, she rolled it up into a neat scroll and tied it off with a bit of red thread. She placed it into a pocket near her chest, placed a bit more ink onto the tip of her quill and began a new scroll.

A slight smile graced her lips. It had been a long time since she had written the history of an event through the eyes of a mortal, and he had played his part perfectly. 

A fitting end to a tragedy.


End file.
